Old Eyes (Young Faces)
by Toni42
Summary: There was a lot of them, and on more then one occasion there hadn't been enough food for everybody. But you get used to it. Some of their stories are a bit complicated, but they're still running. And despite the arguing, they're the closest they're gonna get to family. Because while they have young faces, their eyes are far too old. Kid!Runaway!Avengers. Warnings inside.


_**There was a lot of them, and on more then one occasion they've been separated or there hadn't been enough food for everybody. But after awhile, you get used to it. There's a lot of people after them, people they'd rather not run into, but they manage. Most of them are running for the same reason, others are a bit more complicated, but they're still running. And despite the arguing, they're the closest they're ever gonna get to a family out here. Because while they have young faces, their eyes are far too old.**_

* * *

 **Main Characters (Name, Age):**

 _Steve Rogers: 17. Clint Barton: 13. Natasha Romanoff: 15. Bruce Banner: 12. Tony_ _Stark: 16. Peter Parker: age 6. Thor Odinson: 15. Loki Laufeyson: 10. Pietro Maximoff: 9. Wanda Maximoff: 9. Vision: 10. Scott Lang: 14. Bucky Barnes: 17. Sam Wilson: 14. T'Challa: 15._

* * *

 **WARNINGS: Mentions (and highly possible flashbacks) of neglect, child abuse and child experimentation. Also contains minor swearing, father at twelve, child death, children with PTSD, and brainwashing of a minor.**

* * *

It was dark outside, almost two in the morning. The grass was damp and the paths dark from the light rain they'd had that evening, but the stars and half moon were casting long shadows along the halls through the windows.

Apart from the stars and moon outside, the only other light was the soft blue glow of the Arc Reactor under his thick AC/DC t-shirt. Tony reached up and placed a hand over it to muffle the light, afraid some late night worker might spot it.

The walls and tiled floors were all white, the doors a light grey. Even in the dark, Tony found it hurting his eyes, and he squinted, mouth curving into an annoyed frown. Having everything white was just incredibly cliche. Couldn't they have put in sky blue or something?

Tony gave a mental sigh, shaking his head and turning his attention to the numbers on the thick grey doors. _78, 79, 80, 81, 82... 83!_

Quickly casting his gaze back and forth to make sure there wasn't anyone coming, Tony turned back to door 83 and dug his hand into his jeans pocket, his left hand still covering the Arc Reactor, and pulled out a silver key. He stuffed it into the keyhole under the silver doorknob, twisting it until it gave a little _click._

Slightly surprised but no less grateful about how easy this was so far, Tony slowly pushed open the door, not wanting to frighten the one inside. Wincing at the loud creaking noise the door made, Tony removed his hand from the Arc Reactor, letting it light up the dark room for him.

He was pretty sure his shrapnel-filled heart stopped.

The boy was small, his head bowed and chin resting against his softly rising chest. His wrists were shackled to the wall, an IV sitting in his vein on the right one, leading up to a bag of pale green fluids. He had no socks or shoes, just a white shirt and pants, curled hair falling into his face.

Swallowing around his suddenly tight throat, Tony hesitantly entered the room, his eyes tearing themselves from the boy to the IV in his arm. He didn't know what it was doing to him exactly, but he had his ideas, and if was probably keeping him unconscious too.

Tony knelt in front of the boy, who couldn't be no older then thirteen, and pressed two fingers to his throat. Giving a relieved sigh when he felt a pulse, Tony reached over and gently pulled the needle out so as to not tear a vein, pressing the little hole it left behind until the bleeding stopped.

Quietly setting the needle on the floor, Tony took the key out again and fit it into the shackles, working by the light of the Arc Reactor.

With the shackles no longer around his wrists to hold him up, the boy slumped against Tony's chest. Wrapping an arm around him so he didn't fall, Tony stuffed the key back into his pocket and gathered the boy into his arms, standing swiftly. The boy was far too light to be healthy, but Tony pushed this to the back of his mind to deal with later. Right now, he needed to get out of the building before someone finds them.

The boy didn't stir as Tony carried him out of the cell, nor did he move when he shut the creaky door with his foot. Tony walked back the way he came, down a set of stairs and all the way to the garage, where he'd broken one of the locks to get in.

It was a little awkward slipping under the garage door while making as little noise as possible with the boy in his arms, but Tony manage, gently setting the garage door onto the hard ground to avoid it banging.

He walked up the road and well into the night, few cars ever passing by. His backpack bounced against his back slightly with every step, the boy in his arms breathing softly with his cheek pressed against Tony's shoulder. There was no one there to stop him, to question them, so Tony walked on.

He kept walking even when his feet began to ache and his arms got tired, he kept walking even when the stars began to fade and the sky began to light up with the approach of the sun. He kept walking even when an early jogger stopped to stare at them with a frown, he kept walking even when his stomach began to rumble.

He didn't know where they were walking to, exactly. But anywhere was fine as long as they weren't near either of their dads.

* * *

T'Challa felt his heart hammer against his chest. He clenched his hands into fists to stop them from shaking, taking deep breaths through his nose. He was a trained warrior, dammit, and future king of Wakanda. A king nor a warrior should feel such fear.

But with his sister Shuri lying unconscious in the bushes and his own blood dripping into his eye, T'Challa couldn't help but be afraid. The man before him seemed completely harmless, thin and small as he was, his face hidden behind a red devils mask.

No one had taken out Shuri since they were toddlers. She was even a challenge to T'Challa on a good day. But this man had taken her out like she was nothing, and had T'Challa himself backed up against a cliff face, shaking and near tears.

The man knelt in front of him, causing the young prince's labored breathing to quicken, and he cocked his head to the side, as though curious. He reached a hand forward, black gloved fingers brushing against the cut on his forehead, and despite T'Challa's best efforts he found himself flinching.

The masked man tutted softly. "Does that hurt, little prince?" his voice was low, barely a whisper, and T'Challa flinched again as if he'd just yelled into his ear. "It looks quite painful indeed."

His hand shot out and grabbed the prince's chin, the same hand that had brushed against his cut, and forced T'Challa to look him right through the holes in the devil mask. The man's voice went from a soft whisper to a deep growl, and T'Challa's hands just wouldn't stop shaking.

"Now listen here, you little shit. You're going to turn around and you're going to run. Run far, far away from the castle, run all the way out of Wakanda. Avoid anyone who might try to take you back here, whether they be from Wakanda or not. Leave, little prince, and never come back."

T'Challa's blood ran cold in icy terror. His eyes darted to his sisters motionless form, and the man gave a low chuckle, not letting go of his chin.

"Run," he was whispering again, but it was harsh instead of soft. His fingers dug into T'Challa's chin painfully. "Run or I'll kill her."

He let go then, got to his feet, and from his back pocket he drew a gun, pointing it right at Shuri's head. T'Challa climbed to shaking feet, frightened tears burning his eyes. He took one last long look at his sister, before running past the masked man and into the forest. His entire body was shaking against his will, and for what must be the first time in his life, he was stumbling over the tree roots and his feet were getting caught in the bushes.

The tears finally began to fall as he ran, ran away from the man in the devils mask, away from Shuri. The tears fell and he clenched his eyes shut, as he ran away from his family, his home, as he ran away from Wakanda at the orders of the masked man.

Tomorrow, Shuri will awaken in medical with no memory of the attack. Tomorrow, the whole kingdom will search for their prince. Tomorrow, T'Chaka will hug his daughter and promise her that he will bring her brother back before leaving to lead the search party. Tomorrow, T'Challa will have left Wakanda in the back of a fish truck.

Tomorrow, the man in the devils mask will be comforting the worried king.

* * *

"Loki!" Thor's hand shot out and grabbed the younger boys wrist, pulling him closer and behind a large pillar, out of sight of the guards. "Where are you going this late at night? Mother and father will be displeased if they catch us."

" _Your_ mother and father." Loki snapped, wrenching his hand out of Thor's grasp. "Why are you following me, Thor? I'm not your real brother, I'm not even an Asgardian, I'm- I'm a _Frost Giant,_ Thor, and you- Thor, you've sworn to kill them all, so why are you-"

Arms wrapped around him, pulling him up against a broad chest. For the first time, Loki realized he was crying, and he twisted in the Thunderer's grasp, trying to get away. But Thor wouldn't let go, his cheek resting against his struggling brothers head, and after a moment Loki just stopped, panting and shoulders shaking with suppressed sobs.

"You," said Thor after a moment, his usually booming voice soft and quiet to avoid detection, "Are my little brother, Loki. I do not care if it be biological or not, whether you be Asgardian or Frost Giant, whether you bare the name Odinson or Laufeyson. You may not be by my blood, but you are my brother. Please, remember that."

Loki sniffed, stifling a sob. "They're my parents. But I'm not their son."

Thor let out a heavy sigh, his arms tightening around the smaller boy. "You are really leaving, aren't you?" It was barely a question, but Loki nodded anyway. Thor gave another heavy sigh, before standing there silently, still holding the softly crying Loki close.

"Then I shall come with you." he said finally, after a moment of thought. Loki's eyes widened in shock, and he pushed himself away, his jaw hanging open as he looked into the large blond's determined eyes.

"W-What? B-But you've got no problem with mum and Odin." Loki said, taking a step back. Thor's hand shot out again, taking his brothers forearm in a gentle grip.

"You are my little brother, Loki." said Thor, "And it is my duty, as your big brother, to look after you. To protect you. And how will I do that if we are not even in the same realm?"

"You never protected me before." Loki spat, eyes flashing, "Not when your friends beat me up or hung me in a tree by my ankles. Why the sudden hero complex? You never cared when you thought we were real brothers."

He tried to rip his arm from Thor's hand, but the bigger boy didn't give, his brow furrowed into a frown. "My friends... the Warriors Three? Sif? They have been bullying you?"

Loki stopped struggling, bowing his head to scowl at the floor as if it had personally offended him. "The Warriors Three more than Sif. I thought you knew."

"Oh, Loki." Thor sighed, pulling the smaller boy into another hug. "I- If I had known..."

He trailed off, and they stood there in silence for a moment, the billions of stars shinning through the tall windows of the palace. Finally, Thor gave another sigh and pulled away, taking a quick look around to make sure no guards were coming.

"Well, brother," he began, smiling, "Which realm are we marching towards in this mighty adventure to be?"

Loki grinned at him weakly, his hand resting on his satchel. "Did you know mortals resemble Asgardians?"

* * *

He'd vanished during a game of hide and seek. They'd been eight. He'd spent seven years looking for him, and he wasn't about to give up now.

"Steve," whispered Peggy, "If the police couldn't find him, what makes you think you can?"

Steve sighed, stuffing a t-shirt into his backpack. He turned around to face his girlfriend, not wanting to go but knowing he had to. "I don't know. I just- Peggy, I can't just sit here and do nothing. I'm not giving up until I find him. Dead or alive."

"You're only a minor, Steve," Peggy protested, "Can't you just... wait a few years? Get adopted, grow up, have your own kids. Wouldn't Bucky have wanted you to do that?"

The boy faltered, squeezing his eyes shut. The mere thought of going on without his brother in all but blood made his heart ache. Having his own kids but unable for them to look at his best friend and call him their 'uncle' made tears spring to his eyes. They'd been planning on living together for a couple years, and after that they'd be next door neighbors. Always with each others backs.

Now he was gone.

"I can't." his voice broke, and he clenched his eyes shut, his back to Peggy. "I just- _can't._ "

Peggy remained silent. Steve kept his back turned to her, packing up the last of his stuff and swinging his backpack over his shoulders. When he did turn to face her, Peggy was right in front of him, her lips meeting his. He froze, surprised, but quickly returned the kiss without any hesitation.

He wanted this to last forever. He didn't want to leave her. But she had made it perfectly clear that she wasn't coming with him, and while Peggy had cared about Bucky almost as much as he does, she had long ago accepted that he wasn't coming back. But she also couldn't bring herself to rat him out to one of the orphanage's nuns.

They reluctantly pulled apart, Peggy's eyes oddly shiny. Steve forced himself to ignore it.

"I'll find you." he promised. Peggy nodded, sniffing.

"I know you will. Just... try and stay in contact, okay? Whenever you can. I don't care if it's a two minute phone call or a five word letter or- or some little kid you sent to find me, just give me something, _anything,_ so that I know you're okay."

Steve closed his eyes, his hand reaching out to grip Peggy's. "I promise." he said, "Peggy, _I promise_."

Getting out of the orphanage was incredibly easy. But then again, Steve had been there since he was four; he knew the entire building, in and out.

He and Bucky liked to explore a lot.

"I promise." he whispered, eyes glinting in determination as he took one last look at the little catholic orphanage that had been his home for so many years. "I'll find you. You _and_ Bucky."

 _I promise._

* * *

"I know what you're thinking."

Pietro froze, the battered toy car in his hand coming to a stop. He didn't look up to where his sister was reading a book, and after a moment he forced himself to relax, keeping his voice casual.

"You didn't say it was a bad idea."

Wanda shrugged, glancing up from her book to look at the back of Pietro's head before returning her eyes to the pages. "I didn't say it was a good one either."

"It's better than living under the same roof as Dennis and his gang. You know what they might do to us if they find out what we are."

"Why do I feel as if you're talking about Mrs. Sanders and not Dennis?" Wanda asked, not looking up from her book even though she wasn't reading it anymore.

"You know what they'll _both_ do." Pietro's voice was quiet, just above a whisper. Wanda sighed, closing her book with a muffled _snap_.

"Of course I know what they'll do if they found out." she said. Pietro abandoned his car, turning around onto his back to look at her properly.

"Then why are we _here_?" he asked, "With our powers, we'd survive fine on the streets-"

"I don't want to steal, Pietro."

"I'd rather steal a couple bucks from some snot-nosed jerk then get experimented on again. What if we went to-"

"We can't go to Xavier's." Wanda cut him off sharply, "We're not real mutants."

"We don't have to tell them that."

"You seem to have forgotten that some of them can read minds."

"What about Er-"

" _No,_ Pietro." snapped Wanda, sliding off her bed. Pietro scrambled to his feet, returning her glare. Wanda continued, "He doesn't even know we _exist-"_

"Then how do you know he won't want us?"

"How do you know he will?"

When Pietro didn't answer, Wanda sighed, closing her eyes and bowing her head.

"We don't even know where he is. I don't want to spend who-knows-how-long searching for him, only to be kicked back onto the streets without a second thought."

"But we can't stay here." Pietro said quietly, stepping forward and resting a hand on his sisters shoulder, "Anywhere, even the streets, is better than _here_."

"We get food, clothes and shelter here."

"But with the constant threat of being found out hovering over our heads?" Pietro rose his eyebrows. "You wanna go too, don't you? I know you're just as miserable as I am, Wanda."

Wanda sighed again, finally looking her brother in the eye. "And if things go wrong?"

"We'll come back."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

She closed her eyes, her hand reaching up to clutch the one on her shoulder. She took a deep breath through her nose, letting it out through her mouth slowly. Wanda opened her eyes, brown looking into blue. Her shoulders slumped, defeated.

"Fine."

" _Yes!"_ Pietro exclaimed, fist pumping the air and zooming around the room.

"But we only steal," said Wanda, as Pietro came to a stop in front of her, jumping up and down excitedly. "If we absolutely have to. Understand?"

Pietro gave a mock salute. "Yes, ma'am!"

Wanda shook her head, sighing for the third time, but she couldn't help the smile that crept onto her lips. Pietro's face-splitting grin could be a bit contagious at times.

"Alright," she said, "Get packed. We'll leave after dinner."

* * *

"I want to see her."

 _"No, Scott."_

"She's my daughter!"

 _"She's my granddaughter. It's your own fault for getting a sixteen year old pregnant. I don't know what she was thinking when she decided to have sex with a twelve year old boy-"_

"Look," Scott snapped, glaring at the slick black phone, "I'm getting out of jail next week, and all I want to do is see Cassie. I don't care if I'm only fourteen, I know what I did was messed up and wrong and you have every right to hate me-"

 _"Damn straight."_

"- but please, I just want to see her! She's my kid, whether any of you like it or not, and I want to be the best dad I can be for her-"

 _"Then you shouldn't have landed yourself in jail, now should you? Cassie doesn't even know you exist, and I want to keep it that way, at least until you're past eighteen and have made up for your, ah, criminal doings. Now suck it up, and at least try to keep your legs closed once you're out. Goodness knows what you've been doing with the your cellmates."_

The line went dead.

Scott sighed, lightly banging his head against the wall in frustration. He really hated that women.

Running his hand down his face, he placed the phone back on its receiver and reluctantly followed the waiting guard back to his cell.

Once he was out of here, he would be sent off to stay at a foster home in Idaho, where the police would come check up on him once a week. He'd be kept on a tight leash, even though he wouldn't be behind bars anymore, so if he wanted to see Cassie he would have to convince them to let him see her. They'd probably get a lawyer as well, so there was a 2% chance that he'd be able to finally meet her without breaking the law.

Scott didn't want to come back to jail. He was done with all of that. Even though they wouldn't let him see her and he hadn't met her and she didn't even know he existed, he had a responsibility.

He had a daughter to take care of.

* * *

They were surrounded by fire.

Bodies were scattered everywhere, their skin black and burning, clothes torn and charred. Some were even still breathing. Half of them were little girls.

The smell was horrible, but their training pushed it to the back of their minds. It was almost terrifying, how neither the smell nor the bodies seemed to effect them, be it physically or emotionally.

A metal fist gleamed in the light of the flames inching towards them. It shot forward, smashing through glass, and then it began to bend the bars on the other side effortlessly.

They were almost out. For the first time in years, _they were almost out_. They must be the first ones to ever make it this far.

"Zamerzat'!"

Natalia's heart dropped to her stomach. The Asset stopped bending the bars, looking over his shoulder at the Russian pointing a gun at them, his grey eyes cold. The Russian was sweating from the flames, and his knee's were trembling, but his aim was steady.

The Asset cocked his head.

"Vy ne khozyain Pierce."

The Russian flinched. He opened his mouth to say something, but a bullet entered it and shot out the back before he could.

The Asset holstered the gun, neither of them glancing at the Russian again as he crumpled onto the floor to be engulfed by flames. He returned to the barred window, metal and flesh hands resting on the bars and bending them to make room for the two assassins.

Natalia quickly followed the Asset out the window, dropping a couple feet to the ground into a pile of snow. It was night, the cold wind playing with their hair, the only light being that of the bright fire of the facility. They had two hours before HYDRA and the Red Room arrived, maybe even the police. Enough time to disappear.

"Natalia?"

"Da?"

"Vy ne raneny?"

Natalia looked herself over. She was barefoot, the bottom of her pants charred and some of her red hair signed, but her black tank top was fine and she had no threatening injuries, only minor burns and cuts. She shook her head.

"Net. Ty?"

The Asset shook his own head in answer.

They continued walking in silence, the burning building soon becoming blocked by tall, snow-covered trees as they entered the woods. The Asset reached out and took her hand in his. It wasn't a romantic gesture, it was simply supposed to be comforting. Because although Natalia would never admit it, she was scared.

They both were.

"Kuda my idem?" Natalia asked. The Asset didn't answer for a long time, not until the sky had begun to lighten with the descent of the moon and the approach of the sun.

"Amerika."

* * *

The mechanical wings flapped up and down, the wind hitting his exposed skin in a gentle breeze. Sam would never get used to this. It wasn't like being on a plane or helicopter. He was _flying_ ; truly flying like an actual falcon. He loved it.

Nick and Riley were flying only a few feet away from him, in their usual triangle formation. Nick was at the front, Sam to the left and Riley to the right. They were his best friends.

Static erupted from Sam's earpiece, and he tilted his head slightly to the side as the voice of their trainer came through.

 _"Alright, kids. All you have to do is take out the enemies, get the case and get out of there. Simple, right?"_

"Yes, ma'am." came Nick's voice.

 _"Good."_

The comes became silent, and Sam felt an excited grin tug at his lips. Here goes nothing.

"Ready, team?" asked Riley, his voice copying Sam's own excitement. Nick and Sam nodded eagerly.

"When are we ever not ready?" joked Nick. "Okay, Wilson, you distract the enemies, keep them directed at you. I'll go in first and disable their power." he turned to Riley, "And you'll get the case. Yes?"

"Just make sure you get the backup generator as well." Riley pointed out. Nick nodded his thanks.

"Okay. Let's go."

They split up, Sam landing silently on a thick tree branch, prepared to take off at any moment if it didn't support his weight. When he did, he gave a satisfied nod, and looked up to spot the tiny form of Riley on another tree branch all the way on the other side of the clearing.

The clearing itself was incredibly large. A grey stone, three story building sat on one end, surrounded by a barbed wire fence. Since it was night, lights were on, illuminating the yard bellow and the people walking around it; their 'enemies.'

Sam caught a glimpse of Nick landing sneakily behind a parked van, his wings retracting into his backpack, before dashing under a closing garage door and out of sight.

 _"I'm in."_

After a while, the lights went out and cries of surprise and orders cut through the night air. Sam immediately launched from the tree, wings extracting, swooping over the fence and hitting a guard square in the chest.

He ducked as a mock-bullet shot towards him, retracting his wings to roll onto the ground before jumping up and once again taking flight. The mock-bullets weren't foam bullets like you get with Nerf guns, but where more of darts then anything else. They don't harm you, but if you get hit then it feels as if you've actually been shot.

Sam somersaulted, diving down and ramming into a large group of men and women, knocking them to their feet. This went on for a while, before static erupted from his comm.

 _"I've got it!"_ Riley exclaimed, and Sam grinned. He always did when they accomplished a mission.

"Great." he said, taking off and twisting his body to avoid more darts, "Let's get back to base!"

Nick soared up to fly beside him, the lights coming back on as they began to leave. Sam looked down, spotting Riley soaring towards them with a black case in his hands. He would be with them in only a few sec-

The only warning they got was the sound.

For a moment, Sam thought one of the darts hit him. But no. The mock-guns gave off more of _zing_ then a _bang_. He blinked, confused, his ears ringing. His eyes found Nick, who was shouting, but Sam couldn't hear him through the ringing. He looked terrified.

He looked down, almost automatically, at his legs. They dangled a hundred feet up into the air, his combat boots clasped onto his leg to stop them from falling off during flight.

Sam's right leg was bleeding.

There was another bang, and the ringing intensified. Sam looked up, terror gripping his chest, only for a body to collide with his, pushing him out of the air.

He fell, twisting in the air, before he was able to regain flight. His head snapped up, searching for his teammates. He saw Nick, diving, reaching out with his hands. Sam's eyes followed to what he was chasing after, and his blood turned to ice.

Riley was falling, steam erupting from his pack, the black case long forgotten as it fell through the air along side him. His eyes were wide, and he was reaching up, reaching up towards Nick.

At the back of his mind, Sam realized their mock-enemies bellow were shouting. Screaming. Searching for the shooter with the real gun. But he didn't care about that. At least, not at the moment. How could he? His best friend was falling to his death. And Nick was too far away to reach him in time.

But Sam was closer.

He dived, ignoring the ringing in his ears and the pain in his leg. He dived, heart in his throat, wings retracted and arms at his side to gain more speed. Sam reached forward as he neared Riley, shouting at him to grab his hand, shouting at him to reach farther. Riley's fingers brushed against his-

Another shot rang through the air. Sam screamed, blood gushing from his forearm, and automatically pulled it closed to him to clutch it with his other hand.

His wings expanded, catching him, and Sam looked on with horrified eyes as Riley let out a terrified scream before smashing into the ground. Sam could have sworn he heard Riley's bones snapping upon contact, and he too screamed, as if he himself had just fallen to his death.

He shot to the ground, stumbling as he landed, his injured leg giving out immediately. Sam's good arm shot forward, pressing against Riley's neck, feeling for a pulse.

But there was nothing.

Riley's eyes were opened, but glazed, unseeing. He was limp. Breathless.

Lifeless.

For the first time, Sam realized he was crying. Sobbing. But he didn't care. He couldn't care.

His best friend was dead.

* * *

Circus music.

Clint happily watched as the clowns ran around the stage, mock-hitting each other with giant clubs and tickling each other with feather dusters, much to the joy of the younger occupants in the crowd.

He was eating a bag of popcorn, his fifth one that night, wearing his black and purple costume as he waited to be called up for his and Barney's turn. Speaking of which, where was his brother? He hadn't seen him in an hour.

"Hawkeye!" the Ring Master called out, fixing the red cloth around his top hat. "Where's your brother? You'll be on any moment now!"

Clint frowned, looking around in search of said brother, but couldn't see him. Maybe he fell asleep again. "Maybe he's in the trailer. I'll go find him."

"Hurry up, then! You've got fifteen minutes."

Clint gave the Ring Master a mock salute, taking off at a jog in the direction of his brothers trailer, bag of popcorn still in hand.

He reached the front door in a matter of moments, and he raised a fist to knock. "Hey, Barn? Hello-o?" Receiving no answer, Clint frowned. He reached up again, this time turning the handle, which he found to be unlock. Strange. Barney almost always kept his trailer locked.

It was dark inside the trailer, which only confused Clint more. He scanned the place, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dark. Something in the back shifted.

"Hello? Barney?" Upon realizing that it was in fact his brother, Clint sighed in relief. "Hey, man, you scared me. You got a blown bulb or something? Anyway, we're on in a few moments, you better hurry. Besides, if I eat another bag of popcorn I'm probably gonna throw up."

Barney didn't answer, which made Clint frown again. "Uh... Barney? Come on, we gotta go before the Ring Master gets even more pissed-"

"I'm afraid I won't be able to make it to the show." Barney's voice was slow, as if he were choosing each word very carefully, almost like he didn't know how to word it.

"What?" Clint laughed nervously, taking another step into the trailer. "Why not?"

"In fact," his brother continued, in that same slow voice, as if Clint hadn't even spoken. "Neither of us will be able to make it to the show."

Clint's frown deepened, and looked over his shoulder, back outside the door. "Barney-"

He cut himself off with a scream as he was tackled to the ground, his head banging against the step and popcorn spraying everywhere. Black spots clouded his vision, and for a moment Clint thought he was about to pass out.

His arm shot up almost automatically, punching his attacker right in the face. They grunted, and Clint scrambled backwards, opening his mouth to shout for help but was never able to. A knife glinted in the light, tearing through skin and muscle and tissue, and Clint screamed as agony erupted through his shoulder.

Through blurry eyes, Clint looked his attacker right in the face and his mouth opened in shock.

"Barney- ?"

A punch knocked him onto his back, a tooth flying from his mouth in a spray of spittle and blood. Clint lay on his back in a daze, clenching his eyes shut in pain. He felt cold metal press against his neck-

And a loud, piercing scream erupted form his throat, terror gripping his chest. His arms and legs shot out blindly, hitting and kicking and biting in desperation, wanting nothing more then to have his bow in hand.

A hand closed around his throat, squeezing and cutting off his airway. Clint gasped, clawing at the appendage blindly, trying desperately to take in a breath-

Then it slacked, and Clint kicked Barney in the chest, knocking him away. He gasped for air, scrambling backwards, pain flaring through his face and shoulder. He looked over Barney's limp body, then up, up into the green eyes of a redhead with a gun.

* * *

Peter had been angry. He'd been angry because he was scared, because he didn't know what to do with these newfound powers, because he was afraid of being taken away from his aunt and uncle by the government because he was different, like they do with the mutants.

But now all he could feel was terror. Icy, bone-chilling terror.

Because his uncle was lying on the sidewalk in a pool of his own blood.

"Uncle Ben!" Peter cried, pushing his way through the crowd and clutching his uncle's arm, tears running down his cheeks. "U-Uncle Ben!"

"Peter?" Uncle Ben's eyes focused on his nephew, and he reached up weakly to take his two small hands in one of his own. "Peter. Oh, thank god you're okay."

"Y-You're gonna be okay." Peter stuttered, shaking from head to toe, "The d-doctors will m-make you better, r-right? 'Cause th-that's what their s-s-supposed to do. Right?"

"It's okay, Pete." Uncle Ben said, so low that Peter had to strain to hear him. "I love you, you know that? I love you so much."

Peter sniffed. "I love you too. But you're gonna be okay, you're- you're-" he faulted, falling to his knees. "I just wanna you to be okay."

"I love you, Peter." muttered Ben, as if he hadn't even heard him. "I love..."

He didn't get to finish it.

"Uncle Ben?" Peter whispered, voice cracking. He shook him, trying to get him to answer him, but Uncle Ben remained silent. His eyes had glazed over. "Uncle Ben?!"

 _"Someone get this kid out of here!"_

Peter screamed as arms wrapped around him, arms reaching out towards his uncle as he was carried away against his will. People in uniforms were crowding around his uncle, obscuring him from Peter's view.

" _Uncle Ben!_ "

The policeman set the little boy on a stretcher, wrapping him in a blanket and whispering to him. But Peter couldn't hear him. Someone shouted and the officer looked over his shoulder, before turning to Peter and telling him to stay put. He made his way over to whoever called him, Peter's eyes never leaving the crowd that had gathered around his uncle.

It had been him. The man that robbed the store with the mean cashier. Peter could have stopped him with his new powers. But he didn't.

Now his uncle was dead.

How was he going to tell Aunt May? Would she hate him for what he'd caused? Would she give him to someone else like his parents did?

How could he face her after being responsible for her husbands death?

Peter felt cold, even though it was a very warm night. He finally tore his eyes away from the crowd, to the group of officers that were talking. No one was paying attention to him. He let the blanket slid off his shoulders, before jumping down from the bench.

He couldn't face Aunt May. He didn't want to look her in the eye as she sent him away again.

She didn't deserve the burden of looking after her husbands killer.

Peter reached up and touched his cheek, his fingers coming away wet. He took one last look at the crowd that hid his uncles body, before turning on his heel and dashing down the street.

When he turned the corner, he heard the officer that had carried him away shout out. Peter ran faster, turning into an alley and sticking onto the side of a building. Fueled by adrenaline, he didn't even glance down as he scaled the building, didn't even feel an ounce of fear that he might fall off. He reached the roof and he ran.

He ran and he ran, far into the night. He ran until he could run no more.

* * *

 **Time Zones: During the scene with Steve, he was fifteen, meaning he's been looking for Bucky for two years before finding him. Sam was thirteen when Riley die, and he teams up with Steve a year later. Peter was five when Uncle Ben died, but only a few weeks from his birthday. When Nat and Bucky save Clint, it's only a couple months after escaping HYDRA. Pietro and Wanda are eight when they runaway from foster home. T'Challa was thirteen when he was forced to run by the man in the devils mask, during the same time Steve left the orphanage. Scott had just turned fourteen. In the scene with Thor and Loki, they were fourteen and nine. Tony was just a bit shy from his sixteenth birthday and Bruce would be turning twelve in a month. Hope this clears up any confusion you may have.**

 **Vision will be introduced sometime later.**

 _ **Zamerzat= Freeze.**_

 _ **Vy ne khozyain Pierce= You are not master Pierce.**_

 _ **Da?= Yes?**_

 _ **Vy ne raneny= Are you injured?**_

 _ **Net. Ty?= No. You?**_

 _ **Kuda my idem?= Where are we going?**_

 _ **Amerika= America.**_

 **Just realizing that T'Challa's is a bit like the Lion King (Cat King!).**

 **SOMEONE HELP I KEEP MAKING NEW STORIES WHEN I SERIOUSLY, REALLY SHOULDN'T AND NOW I'M JUST GONNA BE EVEN MORE STRESSED BECAUSE I'VE GOT THREE OTHER IN-PROGRESS STORIES AND THAT'S NOT EVEN MENTIONING THE ONES I'M WORKING ON AND THIS IS JUST PURE TORTURE AND I AM SO VERY SORRY TO THE POOR SOULS WHO WILL HAVE READ THIS AND BE LIKE 'OH, PLEASE UPDATE QUICKLY THIS IS GREAT!' AND NOT GET AN UPDATE FOR LIKE SIX MONTHS. I AM SO SORRY BUT I WILL AT LEAST TRY TO UPDATE THIS EVERY NOW AND AGAIN.**

 **Thank you for your understanding.**


End file.
